


Don't Get Me Started

by whelvenwings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:25:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4716062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whelvenwings/pseuds/whelvenwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The party was not exactly what Cas had been expecting.</p><p>When Dean had asked him to come along to his friend Charlie’s twenty-first, he’d pictured a dark club, thudding music and dancing. The idea hadn’t been especially appealing but he’d said yes, because after all, he had to learn to socialise at some point - and, well. It was Dean.<br/>____________________________________________________________<br/>In which Cas isn't enjoying a party, until Dean offers to play a few rounds of a new game he's heard about - 'Don't Get Me Started'. They're supposed to take it in turns to have an angry rant about something, but when Cas' given topic is Dean, he finds himself struggling - especially since this isn't the kind of dressing-down Cas normally has in mind when he thinks of his best friend...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Get Me Started

The party was not exactly what Cas had been expecting.

When Dean had asked him to come along to his friend Charlie’s twenty-first, he’d pictured a dark club, thudding music and dancing. The idea hadn’t been especially appealing but he’d said yes, because after all, he had to learn to socialise at some point - and, well. It was  _Dean._

But here they were in Charlie’s room, and somehow the fact that it was a quiet affair with low music just made it worse. There were no little corners of the club to hide in, and altogether far too much talking. Small talking, too, something Cas had never managed to be good at. His jokes were always a little too dry, his anecdotes always delivered in a way that made people laugh nervously or sip their drink awkwardly before moving away. Eventually, Cas just went and sat on his own on the smallest, most secluded sofa, and took out his phone.

“Having a good time?” said a warm, familiar voice. Dean sat down on the sofa beside him, and Cas shifted slightly to give him more room. Dean spread his legs a little wider, their knees almost touching. Cas swallowed and carefully didn’t look down at that inch of space. Such a small, small amount of space.

“Um, yes,” Cas lied, remembering belatedly to answer Dean’s question. Even with his best friend, he was still awkward. A total loser, as Dean would say. But he said it with a smile and a hand squeezing his shoulder.

Dean grinned at him and took a swig of his beer.

“Want to play a game?” he asked. “I heard about a new one. It’s called ‘Don’t Get Me Started’.”

“Alright,” Cas said. Maybe a game would help him to relax - and it was Dean asking, after all. “What do we have to do?”

“Well,” said Dean, “You give me a thing, and I have to go on a rant about it. Doesn’t matter how dumb or amazing it is, I have to act like I hate it and tell you why. Sound good?”

“Alright,” Cas said again, a little dubiously. “So - I just - give you something?”

“That’s right,” Dean said. “Could be anything.”

Cas looked around the room for a moment, thoughtfully, trying to pick something out.

“Parties,” he said eventually. Dean laughed and shook his head.

“Party hate is much more your area,” he said. “I gotta channel your spirit right now, here we go. OK. Freaking - freaking  _parties,_ man. They are the worst. The way people all gather together, and they talk about nothing, just - the future, jobs, grades, workloads, who knows someone else who knows someone else. So freaking  _boring_. We could be lying on hilltops looking at the stars or some shit and instead we’re stuck inside pretending to get along with people who we’ll probably never meet again? Ridiculous. And, you know,” Dean said, his expression turning sly, “there’s always that one  _asshole_ you meet at a party. You know, the one who sits in the corner texting and doesn’t talk and just kinda creeps everyone else out.”

Cas, who had been smiling along with the first part of Dean’s rant, gave him a shove with his shoulder and forced a laugh.

“Harsh, but fair,” he said, and Dean laughed too, throwing his head back and clapping a hand to Cas’ shoulder and squeezing. Cas couldn’t help watching him, his eyes bright. He loved making Dean laugh like that.

“Alright, alright, too far,” Dean admitted, releasing Cas’ shoulder. “OK, your turn. I tore a strip out of you, so let’s even that out. Your topic is… me.”

“You?” Cas’ throat was suddenly dry. “You want me to get mad about you?”

“Sure,” said Dean, with an easy tone that was belied by the strange look in his eyes, the way his fingers were clenching slightly around his beer bottle. “We’ve known each other for three years, now. I’m pretty sure you’ve got some choice complaints.” He winked, and Cas wanted to run. But he couldn’t, could he? After all, it was Dean. Watching him with an expectant gaze.

“Alright,” Cas said. “You. Dean - Dean Winchester.” The buzz of conversation from the other party guests in the room seemed to dull to a barely-audible hum as the focus between Cas and Dean intensified. “You are - you are very -” he paused, trying to think of something harmless. “Clean.”

“Clean?” Dean asked, looking confused.

“Clean,” Cas confirmed. “Your room is always clean. And you get very annoyed when someone makes a mess. You frown and you grumble about it, and it’s very… um, very… vexing.”  _Vexing?_ Dean was looking at him like he was from another planet. What else was there? He tried to think, but his brain was filled with the usual pink clouds that rose up when Dean was around him.

“Oh, yeah?” Dean said. “Well, you’re a messy person. You leave your mugs on the coffee table with no coaster.  _That_ shit is vexing.”

“You get grumpy when you have to wait for longer than ten seconds, if we’re going somewhere,” Cas countered. Who could be bothered to find a coaster, anyway? The tables in their college rooms were cheap and didn’t even belong to them.

“You take about an hour to get ready for  _anything_ ,” Dean swiped back, scowling slightly. Cas made a little angry noise.

“You wake up looking perfect every day, which decreases your empathy for people who don’t,” he snapped.

“ _You_ wake up looking perfect every day!” Dean said loudly.

Cas opened his mouth to respond - and then closed it. 

Dean was watching him with his lips slightly parted, but when he saw Cas’ blank, surprised face, he snapped them shut and turned away slightly, taking a sip of beer. 

Cas watched his profile, the downward curve of his lips, the slight pinkness of his cheeks. Was he - was Dean - embarrassed? But why would he be, unless… unless he really meant what he’d just said? Oh, but that was impossible, surely… Cas was the only one with a ridiculous crush here, after all.

“Hah, anyway,” Dean said, turning back to face Cas with a wry expression on his face, a dismissive hand raised to wave the moment away. 

But -

“Really?” Cas said, the single word spilling out like a raindrop falling onto the waters of a silent pool, rippling, changing everything.

Dean stared at him for a long, long moment. Cas swallowed.  _Don’t ask what I mean,_ he thought.  _You know what I mean. Just tell me if you meant it._

Dean opened his mouth.

“Really,” he said, a little roughly. “You - you look great in the mornings, Cas.” His mouth twisted in a little smile. “You always do.”

Cas let out the breath he’d been holding. Dean was twisting his beer bottle in his hands nervously, his eyes downcast.

“Cas, look, I don’t want to - you’re my best friend, I don’t want to -” He seemed to run out of words, his eyes looking suddenly misted. Cas’ heart pounded in his chest, because  _was what he thought was happening, really happening?_ Wasn’t this impossible?

“Dean,” Cas said. “Dean, I…” He grasped for words that wouldn’t come. He couldn’t say it all, everything he felt, everything he needed to say - he had to do  _something,_ though, or the moment would pass and he’d be back to reality. He had to act now, while they were still in this impossible dreamworld -

He reached out, and took Dean’s hand. He didn’t look at Dean, just focused on their fingers as he laced them together in the neatest of patterns,  _Dean Cas Dean Cas Dean Cas Dean Cas,_ and their thumbs on the end pressed one on top of the other. Dean’s skin was warm and Cas’ was hot, sparks shooting up his spine, his breath shuddering just a little at the feeling of the contact…

And then Dean squeezed his fingers, and he was putting down the bottle in his other hand, dropping it hastily to the floor. His fingers came up to press against Cas’ chin, gently lifting his face so that they were looking into each other’s eyes. The weight and heat of their stare was almost too much to bear.

“Cas,” Dean said hoarsely, his thumb rubbing lightly at Cas’ jawline. “Do you - do you - do you  _like_ me? Like,  _like_ like me?”

Cas sighed, his eyes as bright and warm as falling stars. He leaned in, and Dean moved with him, mirroring him perfectly. Cas loved him, he  _did,_ he loved his eyes and his freckles and his lips and the way that they trembled just a little when he was nervous, and how softly he touched, and how strongly he looked, and how deep and wonderful and kind he was. How  _Dean_  he was.

“Don’t get me started,” Cas said, and closed the space between them, pressing their lips together in a warm, sweet kiss.


End file.
